vertical yields–erudite
and prosperous, two weeks only
have passed, and the harvest
feels the ceiling and fills its gaps.
The sky is flush, pregnant, palpable anticipation links
me to this expectant mother,
my pitchfork signals
PUSH! sweat from my brim
heat from my brow
I’m doing my part, the land needs
another signature, a government stamp
permission to proceed and
to prosper, we wait, me and the land,
the land and me together as brothers or sisters
husband and wife or father and child
we live or die together, as one.
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